


All of the Time

by gracerene



Series: Are You Mine? [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Auror Harry Potter, Background Relationships, Bisexual Male Character, Bottom Harry Potter, Divorce, Draco Malfoy in Glasses, HP: Epilogue Compliant, M/M, Magical Tattoos, Masturbation, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, POV Harry Potter, Past Astoria Greengrass/Draco Malfoy, Past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Past Relationship(s), Post-Hogwarts, Sexual Fantasy, Top Draco Malfoy, community: wipbigbang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-07-24 16:49:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7515785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gracerene/pseuds/gracerene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Twenty-five years later, Harry and Draco find their way back to one another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Alright folks, here it is, the final fic in my [Are You Mine?](http://archiveofourown.org/series/361394) trilogy. This fic takes place after [Not Just When You Want to Be](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5985856/chapters/13755322) (H/D) and [What I'm Waiting to Find](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5123663/chapters/11787977) (James/Teddy). It can be read as a stand-alone, but you'll get the most out of it if you read the other fics, particularly [Not Just When You Want to Be](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5985856/chapters/13755322). 
> 
> Lots of love to capitu, nerak_rose, and birdsofshore for looking this fic over for me and polishing it up! <33

Harry's hands shook. He hadn't meant for this to happen, hadn't planned on bringing up their past. He'd only meant to thank Draco for being there for his son when Harry hadn't been. 

When he'd overheard that James had kissed Draco, James's Quidditch manager, Harry's heart had stopped. He'd felt like he couldn't breathe, like nothing in the world made sense any longer. Not only because it was inappropriate for his son to be taking up with his boss and a man twice his age, but because of the past he and Draco shared. A past that nobody but the two of them knew about. A past that still had Harry referring to the man as _Draco_ , instead of Malfoy, if only in his head.

It had taken every last ounce of his willpower not to barge into the room and demand that James tell him exactly what had happened between them. Luckily Harry had stayed to listen instead, because James had explained everything to his siblings and cousins, clarifying that it had been a mistake and entirely one-sided. He'd admitted that Draco had been offering support because James had been upset, and then James had gone and made an arse out of himself by drunkenly snogging his mentor. Harry had sagged against the hallway wall in complete relief. He knew, then, that he had to see Draco. 

It had been nearly twenty-five years since they'd last spoken, since Draco had walked out of Grimmauld Place and out of Harry's life. But all of that was ancient history. Harry hadn't meant to bring any of that up; he'd only wanted a fresh start. Draco was James's boss, and somebody who James admired and respected. Not to mention the fact that Albus was best friends with Draco's son, Scorpius. Frankly, it was shocking that Harry and Draco had managed to last so long without having to be in the same room. They couldn't count on that lasting forever, and Harry didn't want their first words in two decades to be exchanged with an audience.

Harry should have left once he'd thanked Draco for supporting James. He should have shook Draco's hand and walked away, but Harry was reluctant to leave Draco's office so soon. Instead, he found himself opening his mouth, words bubbling up out of his throat that he had no business voicing.

"I just...I wanted to say that I'm sorry for—for everything. I told myself that it was for the best, that you didn't care. But I think, deep down, I knew that wasn't true."

Draco closed his eyes and took a deep breath, his crisp, white shirt pulling attractively across his chest before his quiet exhale. "I appreciate the sentiment, Potter, but it's all in the past. There's no point dredging it all up now. Besides, it _was_ for the best. It would have never worked."

Harry didn't know why those words made him feel like he'd been hit with a Stinging Hex. "Do you really believe that?"

Draco gave a sardonic smile, and it made Harry's breath catch. He looked away as Draco continued. "I guess we'll never know, now will we? But I was hardly wasting away from heartbreak, and it seems rather obvious that you weren't exactly pining after me, either. You made your choice and we both moved on. I was never angry at you for choosing her, anybody in your place would have made the same decision. I can't imagine you regret it." Draco spoke calmly, his tone matter of fact. Harry felt his heart squeeze uncomfortably with his words. 

"I don't, I can't. I loved Ginny, and she gave me my children. Nothing could make me regret any of the decisions I made that brought them into this world. But that doesn't mean I haven't wondered. That I haven't seen your picture in the paper and thought about what could have been." He didn't regret it, but he'd always hated that the cost of his family had been losing Draco. 

"Loved?" Draco said, his voice a rough whisper that made something low in Harry's stomach clench tight.

Harry wrinkled his nose before his eyes widened in realisation. "Love. _Love_ , of course. You know what I meant." Of course he still loved Ginny. He'd always love Ginny. Sure, things had been less than ideal between them for the past few months—the past few years, really—but that didn't mean he didn't still love her. Even though sometimes, in the dead of night, he wondered if maybe that wasn't enough. If maybe whatever spark that had sustained them through three children and over twenty years had finally gone out. But this wasn't the time or the place for those traitorous thoughts. "And that was hardly the point. I mean, we were seeing each other almost non-stop for more than a year, and then it was over. We broke it off and I never saw you again. I—I missed you."

Draco sneered, though he didn't quite manage to hide the glimmer of pain in his hypnotic eyes. "Oh, poor Harry Potter, can't have his cake and eat it too. What did you expect? We were fucking in secret. Nobody even knew we had been spending time together, and you seemed to be under the impression that none of your friends would understand us being friendly acquaintances, let alone more. There was no reason for us to ever see each other again, and I think it was better for both of us that we kept our distance."

Harry couldn't hide his small flinch at Draco's words, even if they were true. They'd both made mistakes back then, they'd both hurt each other more than they'd been willing to admit at the time. Was it really so hard for Draco to admit that they'd had something? "So you didn't miss me at all?"

"I—" Draco paused, collecting himself with a slow intake of breath. "What does it matter? Nothing has changed."

Harry noticed that Draco hadn't answered the question. "Of course things have changed. We've grown up. Just because we have a complicated history, doesn't mean we can't try and be friends now."

Draco laughed, the sound low and bitter. It scraped across Harry's ears uncomfortably, even as Harry's eyes eagerly travelled over the exposed column of Draco's throat. "Friends? How many times do I have to tell you? We could never be friends."

"Give me one good reason why not," Harry challenged, head raised defiantly. They weren't little boys anymore, terrified of themselves and the world. He'd always regretted letting Draco walk out of his life. It was his most shameful, cowardly act, one that nobody but Draco had ever been privy to. Harry wasn't going to live with that regret twice.

"Because you're a good person, an honorable one." Draco's voice sounded almost mocking. "And I'm not."

"That's a load of rubbish. You aren't a bad person, Draco."

"No, not like my father was, or like the many wizards you've come across as an Auror, I'm sure. But…" He tipped his glass, staring at the liquid as the light sparkled through the crystal. Harry wished he'd taken Draco up on his offer when he'd first come into the office. He wouldn't mind a drink right about now. "I don't care about people the way you do. I'd do anything for my family, my friends, for those I love, but that circle is fairly small."

"What does that have to do with anything?" 

Draco stood up, stretching out the long lines of his body before coming around to lean against the front of the desk. Harry couldn't help but admire the way his robes clung to his form. It had been decades, but Draco was still beautiful. Flickering light reflected off of Draco's blond hair, and Harry's fingers fairly itched with the desire to reach out and run his fingers through the silken strands. He wondered if it would feel any different than it had the last time Harry'd had an excuse to touch. Draco cleared his throat. "That's the reason."

"Err…"

"Do you know how you look at me? It’s how I’m looking at you now." Draco's eyes were hot and hungry, and Harry blushed furiously. He wanted to deny it, wanted to claim ignorance to the heat he saw there, but he couldn't bring himself to say the words.

"Do you see? You sit there in your form-fitting Auror robes and look at me as if you want me, and if we start socialising, sooner or later something is going to happen. You'll try to resist, but eventually you're going to give in. You're going to let me bend you over this desk and fuck you like you've only been dreaming about for the past two decades." Draco leaned towards him, his body a predatory curve as Harry gaped at him. Harry's breath came in shallow pants as vivid images of Draco fucking him over that big, mahogany desk zinged through his head. Draco's velvet voice continued, "I'll blow your mind, and afterwards you'll be be racked with guilt. You'll feel compelled to come clean, the whole mess will blow up in both our faces, and at the end of the day, you'll blame me." Draco held up his hand to stave off Harry's incoming protest. "Oh, you'll blame yourself plenty, too, but you'll know that I wanted it, that I encouraged it, maybe even manipulated things to get what I wanted, and you'll blame me for that." Draco looked at Harry, something soft and almost sad about his expression. "I'm too old to get dragged into your orbit again, Harry Potter."

He stood up and cupped Harry's cheek gently before sliding a thumb across one of his cheekbones.

"Go home to your wife." Draco pulled away and walked back around his desk to sit down, before resuming his earlier paperwork. He very pointedly did not look up.

Harry wanted to scream and shout, wanted to shake Draco just to get a reaction. Draco had been terrible at hiding his emotions back when they were kids. He'd pretended he was cold, but he'd never been able to master that pure-blood iciness he'd strove for. Draco wasn't that boy anymore though, and it seemed like twenty-five years had been more than enough time for him to finally grasp the art of shutting down. Harry fidgeted for a moment before nodding to himself and standing. There didn't appear to be anything more to say.

He walked to the door slowly, pain and confusion flooding his body, radiating out through his limbs. Harry paused for only a moment at the doorway.

"Goodbye, Draco," he choked out, before opening the door.

This time it was Harry that did the leaving.


	2. Chapter 1

The shrill sound of Harry's alarm woke him. His wand vibrated furiously on his bedside table, letting him know the alarm had been going off for some time before it had penetrated through the thick fog of his sleep. He reached out groggily and waved his wand to shut it off. With a heavy sigh, Harry rolled onto his back, attempting to blink the sleep out of his eyes.

There was a canopy of deep, blood-red above him, and it took Harry longer than it should have to shake off the disorientation at the unfamiliar sight. He'd been staying at Grimmauld Place for a couple of months now; he should be used to the dark mahogany and rich red of the bed in the master suite. Apparently two months of sleeping in this room wasn't enough to erase the previous twenty years' worth of memories waking up in an entirely different bed. Of _sharing_ a different bed.

Thinking of his wife reminded him of why he'd set his alarm in the first place, and he grimaced as he pulled himself out of bed. She wouldn't be his wife for much longer, not officially anyway. Unofficially, she'd stopped being Harry's wife awhile ago, though they'd both turned a blind eye to the changing relationship between them for far too long. Longer than either of them had wanted to admit. 

It took him a while to rummage through the drawers in his wardrobe to find something suitable to wear. He hadn't been paying much attention to where he was putting his clothes when he'd unpacked his belongings at Grimmauld Place. Harry had had other, more pressing matters on his mind. 

It had been years since Harry had properly been back in this house for more than just a spot of maintenance. He'd spent his whole marriage avoiding the place, unwilling to sell such a tangible link to Sirius, but unable to stomach all the memories it carried. More than anywhere else, this had been his and Draco's place—as ridiculous as that was. They hadn't even properly dated, but back at the beginning, this was where they'd come together, where they'd talked and laughed and fucked.

When he'd started dating Ginny again, they'd always went out or met at her flat. Harry hadn't even realised he was avoiding Grimmauld Place until Ginny had brought it up after Harry's proposal. He hadn't told her the whole truth, but when he'd said that the place was too full of memories, and that he wanted them to start their life together somewhere fresh and free of the past, well, that had been true enough. It seemed unfaithful, somehow, the idea of bringing Ginny to live somewhere he had shared so intimately with another. Though, unfaithful to _whom_ exactly, Harry had never really been sure.

He paid a Squib couple that lived in London a handsome fee to come in and check on the house every month and perform basic upkeep and maintenance, so the place wasn't in complete shambles. It was actually rather untouched by time, every piece of furniture and all the little knick-knacks exactly where he'd left them when he'd walked away for good all those years ago. Harry had dropped by a few times over the years, of course, with Ron or his children, never alone, and he'd never lingered long, never really let himself look and remember. It was a little spooky staying here now, feeling very _old_ in surroundings that hadn't aged a day.

Harry shook the strange thoughts off as he looked himself over in the mirror. He tried not to scowl at his reflection. Most days, he didn't mind the crinkles around his eyes and the slight softness of his belly, but the last time he'd been in Grimmauld Place he'd been barely more than a teenager, and it was difficult not to see all the unfavourable ways his body had changed in the intervening years. Of course, it didn't help matters that he'd had a rough night of it, his nerves wailing over his meeting this morning. The bags under his bloodshot eyes were heavy and dark, and his salt and pepper hair was even more unkempt than usual. 

He smoothed out the dark purple ( _aubergine_ , Lily always corrected him) jumper that his daughter had given him for Father's Day. She was always lamenting his wardrobe, and claimed that this colour, and the fact that it actually fit properly, made him look distinguished. Harry still wasn't sure about the colour, but he did love the cut of it. 

Over the course of the move, Harry had ended up with a much-diminished wardrobe. As he'd been packing his clothing, he'd realised just how little he actually _liked_ his jumpers and trousers and robes. For some reason, everything struck him as terribly dull and drab, and he'd ended up vanishing half the lot in a strange fit of...something. He still wasn't sure what had come over him, but the end result was a very limited selection. Maybe Lily would like to go shopping with him and help him pick some replacements. Shopping for clothes was not exactly Harry's idea of a good time, but it would be significantly more bearable with his daughter there to do the heavy lifting. Besides, despite his children's insistences that they were fine with the divorce, Harry still worried about how they were taking things. An excuse to spend quality time with Lily might be just the thing to settle him.

Feeling somewhat better about the day now that he had a plan of sorts, Harry headed down the stairs towards the Floo. He took a deep breath as he grabbed a handful of powder, bracing himself as he called out for his solicitor's office.

The official signing was just as painful and awkward as Harry had feared it would be. He hadn't seen Ginny in weeks—not since Christmas dinner at the Burrow. She looked just as tired as Harry felt. She still looked good though, her hair cut in a stylish bob that was drastically different from her usual long-haired ponytail. Different, Harry was beginning to accept, might be a good thing, even if there were a few bumps and bruises on the way.

Harry had come there that day ready to sign the papers. He and Ginny had been separated for months now, ever since that fateful conversation with Draco had forced Harry to take a look at his life. It hadn't been long after that that Harry had realised just how much he'd been ignoring, and once Harry had woken from his complacent stupor, Ginny had swiftly followed. It had been hard, but Harry had had plenty of time since to reconcile himself to the fact that his marriage was over. His signature on the dotted line was just a formality, really.

Which didn't quite explain the almost overwhelming wave of sadness that crashed over him as he scrawled his name down with a flourish of his quill. He'd known things were over, sure, but there was something so final in this last act, in the irrevocable dissolution of his and Ginny's marriage bond. For over twenty years, Ginny had been his wife and partner. They'd built a family together, a home and a life that had sustained Harry for half his lifetime. She given him her love and strength, bore him three beautiful children, and helped raise them to become remarkable young adults. No matter what difficulties they'd faced in the past few years, no matter what was ahead for them, Harry would always love her for that. Letting her go was indescribably hard. He still loved her, still saw so much goodness in her, but he knew that they weren't right for each other any more. They'd been a team for so long though, and Harry felt a little bereft as he used ink and feather to sever the last frayed string that tethered them together.

He couldn't resist pulling her into an awkward hug as they made to leave the office, their work finally done.

"Oh, Harry," Ginny murmured into his shoulder, her slim arms squeezing him back just as desperately.

"I'm sorry, Gin. It's just—I miss you already."

Ginny laughed, a damp, hollow sound against the fabric of Harry's shirt. "I miss you, too. But this is the right thing to do for us, and for the kids. We'll all get through this."

"I know." Harry pulled back reluctantly. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

Ginny smirked, a little tired around the edge, but it still made something quiet inside of Harry. "You know me. I can take care of myself."

"I'll see you around, Gin."

She sighed. "Yeah, Harry, I suppose you will."

With a puff of green flame, she was gone, calling out for their home. _Her_ home, now. Not theirs. Not anymore. Harry stared at the empty Floo in a daze, until the receptionist finally asked if he needed anything in a not-so-subtle attempt to get him to clear out of the lobby.

Harry flashed a sheepish smile, and grabbed a fistful of Floo powder. In a clear voice he shouted out _Grimmauld Place_ , letting the flames pull him into the distantly familiar living room. 

This was his home now.


	3. Chapter 2

Harry took in a deep breath of crisp air, grinning to himself as he took in the familiar scents of a Quidditch game. He'd been to hundreds of games now: to support Ginny when she was playing for the Harpies, to hang out with Ron as they watched the Cannons get thrashed by whoever they were playing that week, and now, to watch his son play Chaser for Puddlemere United. Harry had gone to more professional Quidditch games than he could count, but every single one still sent a little thrill of excitement through his gut. Something about the festive atmosphere, the smell of leather and fresh grass, and the jubilant sound of excited chatter, never failed to recall those long ago memories of his first Quidditch World Cup—the good parts, at least. A World Cup was wildly different from a regular match, but Harry could still perfectly recall that feeling of wonder and pure, unadulterated happiness at seeing something so marvelous and utterly magical. Decades later, and there was little that could cheer him up half as well as the simple pleasure of watching Quidditch.

This was just a friendly mid-season match, an opportunity to shake off some of the lethargy born of too many holiday indulgences. It wouldn't affect the team's League standings, only their pride. There weren't as many people in attendance, as the game was in the middle of a workday, but there was a healthy enough turnout that Harry didn't call too much attention to himself. He was in their usual box, and for the first time that he could remember, he was alone.

It had been ages since he'd come to a game by himself, but Lily had never been a fan of Quidditch, and Albus, Teddy, and the rest of his friends and family were all at work. Part of Harry felt a little guilting for skiving off, but he almost never took a holiday, and even Harry could admit that he needed a bit of a break. Things had been...difficult lately, and he knew he was working himself a little too hard in an attempt to avoid the grim and empty interior of Grimmauld Place...and to avoid the memories contained within.

A flash of bright blond on the pitch caught his eye, and his stomach fluttered before he even fully comprehended who it was. Draco. Speak, or rather _think_ , of the devil…

A whistle blew and the players took off, a rush of blue and brown, but Harry's eyes remained riveted on their pacing manager. Up here, alone in his box, Harry could look his fill without drawing too much attention, as he'd wanted to at so many other games. Seeing James play had always been an exercise in control, as Harry's body seemed to always be uncomfortably aware of where Draco was on the pitch at all times. He tried not to notice, not to care, but Harry hadn't had many opportunities to see Draco over the years, and being so close and still so far from him during those long matches had always been trying. Now, though, there was nobody around to notice if his gaze focused more on the pitch than on the players.

Harry gave his eyes free rein and let himself notice just how good the years had been to Draco. His body was still fit and trim, lithe as ever, but with a solidity to it that wasn't there when they were twenty. There was a broadening of his shoulders, a little more muscle packed onto his frame, and it made him seem more imposing somehow. Draco's face had aged and settled, the sharp edges of him rounding out into something more refined and less cutting. Through his omnioculars, Harry could see the finest of lines around his mouth and eyes, the tiniest concession to his age. That, and the almost imperceptible streaks of silver in Draco's pale blond hair, so much subtler than Harry's salt-and-pepper strands. 

Harry couldn't pull his eyes away from him, watching avidly as he walked and talked with an air of command, confidence and certainty infused in his every movement. This was a Draco who knew who he was, who wasn't so scared of the world, not anymore. He certainly had seemed sure of himself when they'd talked in Draco's office all those months ago. That surety wasn't the blustery bravado that Draco had relied on back when they were… No, it was the kind of confidence that only came with age. The kind that made you realise how much you and everybody around you must have been faking it back when you were young. 

Thinking about that conversation now, about talking to Draco for the first time in over two decades, sent heat pulsing through Harry, even as a dull ache settled in his stomach. Fantasies of Draco bending Harry over his ostentatious desk warred with the memory of Draco's expression as he told Harry that they could never be friends. Harry's gaze traveled over Draco's face, and the pang in his stomach intensified.

Harry wanted to get to know this new Draco. He wanted to know if he still liked that same expensively foul brand of wine that Harry had always made sure to keep on hand, just to see Draco's eyes go soft and fond. (Harry had found three bottles of the stuff in the drinks cabinet last week, covered in dust and cobwebs, and his hands had shaken for nearly an hour with the force of his memories.) He wanted to know if Draco still smelled like leather and lavender, if he still spent Christmas in France, if he missed Harry, even a little bit.

A cheer went up around him, and Harry frowned, realising that he'd missed the first goal of the game. He looked around guiltily, grateful that James hadn't been the one to score. Harry was here to watch a match, dammit, not to moon after some old flame who'd been more than clear about where he stood on the matter.

Harry did his best to put the silly dreams out of his head as he focused on the game. Despite his best efforts, his focus was still split between the game and Draco, but at least he managed to cheer on James's assist. By the time the Puddlemere Seeker caught the Snitch, Harry felt surprisingly worn out by the taxing divide of his attentions. He made his way down to the pitch after the game, wanting to congratulate James on his win before heading home.

James grinned when he saw Harry, and Harry felt a little bit of tension leave his body at his son's evident pleasure at seeing him.

"Dad! I didn't expect to see you here."

Harry pulled James into a quick hug, glad that he'd long since outgrown the typical teenaged embarrassment of being seen with his dad. 

"Everyone at the office has been harping on all the hours I've been logging lately, so I thought ducking out early to catch your game would do everybody some good. Congrats on the win."

James smiled. "Not bad, yeah? Doesn't count for anything, but it's good to see that all of Grandma's food last month didn't slow me down too much."

Harry smiled absently, his attention suddenly caught by a flicker of white-blond in his periphery. He half-turned, muscles tensing as he realised that Draco was not ten metres away, talking animatedly to his Seeker. 

Harry's lips twitched into a frown, and he turned back to James, surprised by the quiet, pensive look on James's face.

"Alright there, James?"

James stared at him strangely for another beat more, before his expression returned to its earlier joviality. "Yeah, of course. I was only wondering if you'd like to grab dinner tonight?:

That surprised a pleased smile out of Harry—it wasn't often that his children volunteered to spend time with him. He knew they loved him, and he was even relatively sure they _liked_ him, but they were growing up and living lives of their own now; they didn't usually want to spend their free time with their old man. Harry spared a brief moment of longing for the days when they were small, and Harry was half of their entire world. Just because those worlds had expanded now, it didn't mean Harry wasn't still an important part of them. 

"That would be great. Did you have somewhere in mind?"

"Why don't you pick and send me an owl with where to meet. I've got to change, and then there's a strategy meeting afterward, but I should be free around six."

Harry snuck in another quick hug as they said their goodbyes, his mind already flicking through various restaurant possibilities. He loved eating out, but his fame, and the fact that Ginny much preferred home-cooked meals to restaurants, meant he didn't have nearly as many opportunities to indulge as he'd have preferred. There was just something so wonderfully decadent about being able to eat food that he hadn't had to prepare himself. He could count the number of times he'd been taken to a restaurant as a child with the Dursley's on one hand, but each time it had been wonderful. Not wanting to be judged by the waiters, they'd been forced to allow Harry to get a proper meal. It had always been one of the most inexpensive items on the menu, but Harry had been too enchanted with the experience to worry about that. That same sense of pleasure and indulgence at dining out that he'd felt as a child had followed him into adulthood, and it was one luxury he didn't mind affording himself.

He walked off the pitch focussing on the pleasure of watching the match, and the excitement of having plans for the night that didn't involve moping about Grimmauld Place. His neck ached with the desire to scan the crowd for Draco, but he kept his eyes locked on the stadium's exit.

Draco was a part of his past, and it was high time that Harry stopped wallowing in memories, and began to focus on his future.

~~~~~

"Did you find the place alright?"

James huffed a laugh and rolled his eyes a little as he sat down. "Yes, dad, your instructions were very thorough."

Harry smiled sheepishly. He'd perhaps been over-zealous in his owl note, detailing where to find the hole-in-the-wall Vietnamese place that his assistant had been raving about last week. "Well, I'm glad you made it."

They took a moment to look over the menu, Harry's stomach growling appreciatively as he contemplated his options. The waiter came over and they ordered crispy spring rolls and spicy chicken pho.

"So…" James began, looking somewhat awkward. "How are you doing?"

Harry tried not to grimace. He appreciated that his son wanted to make sure he was doing alright, but he was used to being the one doing the looking after. It was a discomfiting experience being on the other end of things.

"I'm good." James's brow furrowed dubiously, and Harry added, "Really, I'm fine, you don't need to worry about me. It's been an adjustment, but I'm getting used to it. I'm planning on sprucing up Grimmauld Place in my spare time over the next few months, keep me busy."

James nodded slowly. "Alright, good. Let me know if you need any help with the renovations. I'd be happy to help, so long as I don't have a match." James grinned. "And I know Teddy would be happy to pitch in as well. I bet Al would be willing to help too, if you can manage to pull him away from his Healer textbooks long enough."

Harry grinned. "That's why I had children, you know, for all the free labour."

"Nothing's ever free when Al's involved," James snorted. 

"I suppose I'll have to give you that one," Harry chuckled. "But enough about me, what's going on with you? Anything new?"

James was silent as their food arrived, but Harry could tell he was mulling something over. He let James think it through, knowing he would spit it out when he was ready. 

James broke the silence after several minutes of acquainting themselves with their food. 

"I've been thinking about coming out—officially."

Harry felt his eyes widen. "Wow. That's a big step. Are you sure?" 

"I think so. I'm in love with Teddy, you know." Harry nodded. He'd seen the way Teddy and James had been looking at each other over Christmas. He'd be lying if he said it hadn't been an adjustment, his son dating his godson, but he couldn't deny that they were great together. James blushed as he continued. "Well, I've been mad about him for ages, and now that I have him...I don't want to hide it. I want us to last."

Something squeezed tight inside of Harry. He knew all too well what secrets could do to a relationship, how the strain of hiding could become too much to bear. There had been a few moments, back when he and Draco had been doing whatever it was that they'd been doing, that Harry had thought maybe...maybe they could have been something real. But Draco would never have gone public, and Harry had realised that he couldn't hide away forever. He'd needed to move on. There had been a thousand other reasons that he and Draco wouldn't have made it, and Harry didn't regret his decision, but things were different for James and Teddy. He didn't want to see his son and godson fracture under the heavy weight of secrecy. 

"If you feel ready, then I'm proud of you for taking this step. I know it can't be easy. Have you thought about how you'll do it?"

"I'm still working all of that out. I've been talking with Puddlemere's PR team, and, of course, with Draco."

Harry's face twitched at Draco's name, mirroring the unconscious thud of his heart. James's eyes narrowed, and Harry's skin prickled.

"Dad…" The prickling intensified.

"Yes?"

"I've got something to tell you, but—you can't be mad, okay. It was an accident."

"What was?" Harry asked warily.

"We—we saw you, a few months ago, when you came to visit Draco at the Puddlemere pitch." Harry frowned, an unpleasant suspicion washing over him as James continued to explain. "You were wearing your Auror robes, and Scorpius was freaked that you were there to arrest his dad, so we followed you. We...listened in." Harry felt the blood drain from his face. "Not the whole time, just for part of it, but..."

Harry's stomach dropped. James knew. And not just James. "Who, exactly, is _we_."

"Me, Teddy, Scorpius, and Al. But that's not the point.The—"

"Oh, so the _point_ is not that you invaded both mine and Draco's privacy?" Harry was furious. Furious and embarrassed and near terrified. He wondered just how much they'd heard. If they'd still been listening in when Draco had talked about fucking Harry over his desk.

"No. I mean, I'm sorry about that. I know it was wrong. But the reason I'm telling you about it, is that I think you should go for it."

Harry was lost. "Go for it?"

"Yeah. Maybe you need some more time, and I get that. But when you're ready to move on, I think you should try to make it work with Draco."

"Try to make what work, James? Maybe you didn't listen in on the entire conversation, but Draco isn't interested."

"That's what you came away with? We all stopped listening in once you started apologising for whatever happened between you two before, but it sounded to me like Draco was still pretty into you. I don't think the issue was Draco not wanting you, Dad. I think you being married was probably a bit of a sticking point, though."

Harry winced. "It's not that simple, James."

"No, I know. I'm not trying to tell you what to do, and I know I don't know the whole story. I only...I don't want you to write Draco off yet. It's obvious that there's still something there between you two." James hesitated, as if he wasn't sure he should continue. "Draco…he told me once that, when he was younger, there was somebody he'd let get away. That he'd been too afraid to admit his feelings, and he'd always wondered what would have happened if he'd told this man how he'd felt. He was trying to convince me to tell Teddy about my feelings, or else I'd regret if for the rest of my life. And he was right, dad. I just don't want to see you make that mistake. I want you to be happy."

Harry felt the anger drain out of him. James was a good kid, and though he wasn't thrilled that he and the rest of the boys had listened in on a private conversation, he knew James only wanted what was best for Harry. 

"I know, James. I know." He gave James a tired smile. "I haven't figured out what I want to do about all of that yet, but I appreciate your thoughts." Harry ruffled James's hair. 

"I should get going. Teddy said he'd come round after he finished writing up his report. Don't want to keep him waiting."

James grinned, excitement sparkling in his eyes, and Harry felt a strange mixture of pleasure and yearning. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen James so happy with life, so content and settled and ready to take on the world. Harry had been a little surprised when James and Teddy had turned up for Christmas _together_ , but anything that made James light up like that was something Harry was more than happy to support. Of course, as thrilled as he was to see his eldest son glowing with the first blush of a new relationship, Harry couldn't help but be reminded of the dismal state of his own love life. 

He reflected on their dinner conversation as he got himself ready for bed that night. Harry would be lying if he said he hadn't thought about dating Draco. He'd been on Harry's mind almost constantly since the divorce—since before the divorce, if Harry was being honest with himself. Harry had thought that Draco made his opinion on things clear, but maybe James had a point. Maybe Harry had a shot. It would be difficult, but all the best things always were.

Harry wasn't going to give up on getting to know this older, wiser Draco, not yet. Maybe they wouldn't have anything in common anymore, maybe Harry was just romanticising their time together, but it would drive him crazy until he knew for sure.

Now all he had to do was figure out how to convince Draco.


	4. Chapter 3

Harry sighed and rubbed at his eyes as he crossed the Gringotts lobby towards freedom. He hated making visits to the bank.

It had been nearly thirty years since the end of the war and the unfortunate incident with Gryffindor's sword...and the break-in...and the dragon. Thirty long years that only reinforced the notion that, when it came to goblins, time did not heal _any_ wounds, let alone ones as grievous as the ones Harry had committed for the good of wizarding kind. 

Hermione was always quick to point out that the goblins were well within their rights to hold a grudge, given the history of oppression and persecution they'd faced from wizards, but it was still damned inconvenient whenever Harry needed to withdraw money. During his marriage, it had been habit for Ginny to manage their finances, as any interaction with a goblin on Harry's part was bound to net them some kind of mysteriously irrefutable fee. Managing his Gringotts account for himself again was one of the many things he was not looking forward to now that he and Ginny had split.

Their divorce was actually what had led him there that day. The dividing of vaults and assets was something that had to be done in person, to ensure everything was above board. Harry was lucky that everything had ended amicably between him and Ginny, as the day had progressed relatively quickly. Still, it had been a dreary and draining experience, and Harry was glad to be well shot of it. 

He was thinking about how long he'd have to stay at work to make up for taking the morning off as he stepped out into the warm spring day. The sun was blinding after the darkness of Gringotts, and he blinked the spots out of his eyes as he strode down the steps...right into a warm, solid body.

"I'm sorry," Harry said, reaching out to steady the arm that wobbled in front of his downcast eyes. The muscle was firm beneath his fingers, hard and defined beneath the clearly fine material of the slate grey robes. Harry could tell the robes were well-made. He lifted his eyes to the gentleman's face with a smile, intent on paying him a compliment on his garb to help smooth over any potentially ruffled feathers from Harry nearly ploughing him over. 

His brain told him who was in front of him before his eyes even finished processing the glow of silvery blond hair. Draco Malfoy. The words died on his lips. 

Draco's mouth twitched, though whether he was suppressing a smile or a frown, Harry couldn't be sure. "Hello, Potter."

"Uh, hi, Malfoy." Harry took a deep breath, trying to regain some of his equilibrium. He waved a hand between them. "Sorry about that." 

This time, a small smile managed to steal across Draco's face. "That's alright, no harm done. Besides, I seem to remember a time when running into you was just par for the course."

His tone was much warmer than it had been that last time they'd spoken, and Harry's insides trembled at the little sliver of intimacy Draco's words conjured. "I—err—what brings you to Gringotts?"

"I came to withdraw some money. Scorpius's birthday is coming up, and he's been eying a new gold cauldron for his Healer work."

"Oh, yes, I remember Al mentioning something about a party he's throwing for Scorpius at their flat. How old will he be now, twenty-one?"

Draco nodded, his expression brightening and opening up at the mention of his son. "Yes, twenty-one next month. Time does seem to fly by, doesn't it?"

"Yes, it does," Harry agreed, softly. Albus would also be turning twenty-one later that year, in April. He almost couldn't believe it. It seemed like just yesterday Albus was giggling madly atop Harry's shoulders as Harry conjured up silly shapes in coloured smoke. 

"What brings you here?"

"Hmm?"

"To Gringotts. I seem to remember you having a certain aversion to working with our acquisitive friends."

Harry made a face, even as he thrilled that Draco remembered such a particular detail. "I'm not the one with the aversion. They're the ones that can't stand _me_. Unfortunately it couldn't be avoided today. I had to come to officially split mine and Gin's vaults."

Draco's eyes lit with understanding. "Ah, yes, I remember going through that when Astoria and I filed papers." He paused, before continuing, his voice soft with sympathy. "My condolences on your divorce. I know how difficult it can be, going through such a large adjustment."

Harry flashed a wry smile. "I appreciate that. It's certainly taken some time to adjust to the new order of things, but it's all for the best. It was a long time coming."

Harry tried to decipher the emotion in Draco's eyes, but their depths were hidden to him. He wondered if Draco was thinking of that day in his office, if the possibilities drove him as mad as they were driving Harry.

"Listen, Draco, I'm glad I ran into you. I—I've been wanting to talk to you."

"Have you?" 

Draco face had closed off again, and Harry felt like he was teetering on the edge of a precipice as he replied, "Yes. I know what you said before, that we can't be friends, but I think you're wrong."

"Oh?"

"Yes, I do. I know we can be friends. We were friends once, no matter what you may have told yourself. I understand why we couldn't have continued to see each other back then, but things are different now." Harry wiped his sweaty palms against his robes and hoped that Draco would find his earnestness refreshing, rather than off putting. "James talks about you all the time, you know. He thinks the world of you, and I—I want to get to know you again."

Draco fidgeted, his expression creased with reluctance and indecision. It was clear that he wasn't entirely convinced, but he wouldn't be hesitating if there wasn't a small part of him that wanted to take Harry up on his offer. Harry pressed his advantage. 

"Please? We could go out for lunch, like we did in the beginning. There's this Greek place one of the deputy heads at work told me about last week that I've been meaning to try it. I'd love some company."

A soft and almost reluctant smile slid across Draco's face, bringing out the unfairly attractive lines at the corners of his eyes. "You and your food," he murmured in a tone Harry would almost call fond. It sent pinpricks of yearning skittering across Harry's skin.

"Not everything changes, you know. Will you go with me?"

Draco paused a long moment. "As friends?"

Harry's heart flipped. "For now."

Draco opened his mouth. Closed it. His pearly white teeth ran over the pink of his bottom lip, before, "Alright."

The word looked like it had been pulled from Draco almost against his will, and his expression showed clear doubt that he'd made the right decision. Still, Harry would take it, reluctant or not. He beamed, and Draco sighed in response. Even that little huff of breath made Harry's heart leap in exhalation. He had a way in. 

"Next Thursday." Draco commanded, as if trying to regain some measure of control of a situation that had clearly gotten away from him. "Owl me the restaurant name."

"I will. It was good bumping into you, Draco."

Draco stared at him for a moment, his expression still hard to read, but somehow softer than it had been at the beginning of their conversation.

"It was nice seeing you, too...Harry."

~~~~~

Bumping into Draco at Gringotts had filled Harry with a nervous sort of energy constantly humming beneath his skin. He could mostly ignore it at work, when he was busy in meetings, or doing paperwork, or mentoring various Aurors in his department. It was when he got home and his mind was free to roam that was the issue.

To distract himself, Harry got started on something he'd been putting off for months—cleaning up Grimmauld Place. He scrubbed the house from top to bottom, using every domestic spell that Molly had taught him over the years to make his new home shine. As he worked through the rooms, he kept a floating list of items and furniture that he needed to buy or replace. He wondered if it might be worth hiring a decorator, but ultimately discarded the idea. Harry might not be a genius when it came to colour schemes and knickknacks, but he did alright, and he didn't want to live in a house that somebody else had designed and put together. He wanted it to feel like a home—like _his_ home. 

He paused at the door to the courtyard, staring pensively at the dead and dry patch of earth off to the side where his old vegetable garden used to live. It had been years since he'd thought about his brief, long-ago hobby. He'd been so excited about it when he'd first started growing things, watching life bloom under his patient hands. If he closed his eyes, he could almost remember the taste of his first home-grown tomato, the bright, juicy tang of it bursting on his tongue. 

It was bittersweet, seeing the remains of his little garden and recalling a different time. Harry had attempted a garden at the new house with Ginny, after they'd first been married, but he hadn't managed to last past a season. The life of a newlywed, combined with increasing responsibilities at work, meant that he'd had less time to toil away in the dirt. There was also a small, secret part of him that couldn't help but irrationally connect the pastime with Draco. It was a little ridiculous, as Draco hadn't ever even really set foot in Harry's garden. But Harry had just started working on his first garden when he started seeing Draco, and once they started _seeing_ one another, Harry had spent many an hour working in the courtyard trying not to think about whatever the hell he was doing with Draco and all the reasons it was a very bad idea. How funny that now of all times, while trying to distract himself from thoughts of Draco once again, he would find himself here once more, contemplating the possibility of revitalising that old patch of earth. It was a possibility, but one to consider another day.

Harry spent another exhausting hour cleaning out the kitchen cupboards, before glancing at the clock and realising that he should probably head to bed. Though he should definitely wash up first.

The water in the shower was deliciously hot, the pressure massaging out the lingering aches and pains that came from giving the house such a vigorous scrub-down. He felt himself grow hard as he lingered under the spray, the energy that had been coursing through him all too willing to lend itself to other pursuits. Harry took his cock in hand, bracing himself against the shower wall and closing his eyes. He imagined kissing somebody rough and hard, large hands squeezing his hips, a fuzzy, faceless bloke dragging his teeth along Harry's lip. It didn't take long for a face to emerge from the mist, sharp and elegant, ringed with a dripping halo of familiar flaxen hair. Who was Harry kidding? It was silly of him to pretend he was going to get off while thinking of anybody but Draco.

Harry took a deep breath, and this time called to mind a memory—not a fantasy. 

They were in this very shower. Draco had been winning Puddlemere a lot of games, and the _Prophet_ had written an extremely complimentary piece on him that hadn't even mentioned his involvement in the war. He'd been in a euphoric mood, and Harry could still remember the swoop in his stomach at the unbridled pride and satisfaction on Draco's face, the way his smile turned purposeful and intent when he'd turned it onto Harry.

It was right around the time when Harry was beginning to realise that his feelings for Draco weren't as casual as he'd been pretending, and something about the way Draco had looked that night—fierce and triumphant and invincible—had terrified Harry. He'd felt heat and longing sweep through his veins, rich and dark, and Harry had known that there was no way he'd make it out unscathed. Harry had made some excuse about a shower and rushed upstairs, hoping to get some space from this magnetic, electric Draco.

Of course, it hadn't worked out quite how Harry had planned.

Draco had followed him into the shower, pressing him back against the cool tiles as the water cascaded over their skin. Harry had been powerless to resist, had given up without a whisper of resistance as Draco turned him to face the wall. Draco's strong, broom-calloused fingers had circled his wrists, bringing Harry's hands up to wrap around the top edge of the magically-reinforced shower door. He remembered the cool bite of the metal beneath his palms as Draco had slid into him. And then it had been burn and stretch and blinding pleasure, Draco's wet body plastered all along his back as Draco fucked him slow and hard against the glass door.

Harry's breath sped up as he remembered the way Draco's hand had felt wrapped around Harry's cock, so much more satisfying than his own. Curious, Harry's other hand slid back to dip between his cheeks and rub against his hole. Tingles of pleasure radiated out from his rim as he dipped the tip inside, imagining it was Draco's finger instead of his own. Were Draco's fingers thicker now? Were they still rough and calloused, or had they become soft and smooth now that he'd retired? Harry wanked more frantically as he tried to picture Draco's cock, frustrated that the memory of it had become hazy over the years. Did it look the same? Would it _feel_ the same?

Harry would be so much tighter now—it had been years since he'd had anything up his arse. They'd have to go slow, really take their time with it. Draco would need to spend ages opening Harry up with his fingers and lips and tongue. They weren't as young and flexible as they used to be, either. The thought of shagging over sofa arms and kitchen tables wasn't nearly as appealing as the thought of Draco taking him on Harry's big, comfortable bed, their bodies moving together with slow and sure purpose.

Molten hot pleasure swirled at the base of his spine as he pictured Draco's silver eyes flashing above him, lust-bright and joyous. Harry came. He let out a little cry as he emptied against the tiles, trembling with the force of his orgasm as thick white droplets dripped down the wall. Harry was still shaking as he got out of the shower and started getting ready for bed, the force of his memories from his and Draco's past mixing with the uncertainty of their tentative future. 

Despite his long day of work, several hours of rigorous cleaning, and a truly satisfying wank, it was a long time before Harry fell asleep that night. 

It had been a long damn while since Harry had lost sleep thinking about Draco Malfoy, but Harry had a feeling this night wouldn't be the last.


	5. Chapter 4

"So, Dad….I don't suppose all of this wardrobe reinvention has anything to do with you starting to date again?"

Harry froze, still fingering the silken material of a dark green shirt. Lily looked back at him innocently from across the aisle, her arms already laden with various outfits for him to try on. This was the fourth shop they'd been to that day, and Harry had already forgotten the name of it. He was grateful he'd had the foresight to bring his daughter along to help expedite the process, but it was still an arduous task. And, of course, he hadn't counted on her being so perceptive.

"What makes you think I've started dating again?" Harry asked carefully. He didn't want to avoid the topic forever, but he wasn't sure how Lily would take the idea of Harry starting to date only a few months after his divorce. 

"Just a hunch. You've mentioned us getting you some new clothes for weeks now, but your owl yesterday suddenly seemed quite insistent that we make some time for it this weekend. Here, take these." Lily shoved a bundle of clothing into Harry's arms and ushered him towards a fitting room. Harry sighed. "Don't worry," Lily chuckled. "This is the last place."

"Oh, thank goodness," Harry mumbled as he stepped into the changing room. "Not that I don't appreciate your help, Lils," he called out. "But, Merlin, there's a reason why I've been wearing the same clothing for twenty years."

Lily laughed, the sound floating above the curtain as Harry squeezed into a pair of alarmingly tight jeans and a soft navy jumper. This store was more casual than the last few. "I think I speak for the entire wizarding world when I say, Thank Merlin you're finally making a change."

"My clothes weren't that bad, were they?" 

"They weren't bad, they were just….drab. Boring. They weren't you." Harry stepped out of the cubicle and Lily looked him over critically. 

Harry half turned to look at his arse in the mirror, unsure of how to feel about the fact that the denim clung to him like a second skin. "Aren't these jeans a little tight?"

"Are they uncomfortable?"

Harry cocked his head and thought about it. He squatted down and did a few twists, much to Lily's obvious embarrassment. He grinned at her. "Actually, no."

"Then, no, they're not too tight. Just because you can actually tell you have two legs and an arse now—"

"Lily!"

"What? All your old jeans look like potato sacks—these are loads better. Try on the rest. We can see if you like any of the other styles better."

Harry let out a long-suffering sigh and stepped back into the changing room. 

"Lily?" he called out, somewhat nervously, as he attempted to wriggle out of the pasted on jeans.

"Yeah?"

"How would you feel if I _were_ to start dating?"

There was a long pause and Harry's stomach dropped as he struggled to tug on the next shirt.

And then, softly, "I wouldn't mind."

Dressed, Harry pushed aside the curtain, so he could see his daughter's face. "Are you sure? I know your mother and I have been separated for less than six months. It's okay if you're not ready to see me with somebody else."

Lily bit her lip, her hands fiddling with the strap of her handbag. "I know that, Dad. But...you and Mum may not have been officially separated for all that long, but things had been falling apart for a lot longer. It was obvious to anybody who cared to look." Lily quirked a small, sad smile. "You and Mum just didn't want to see it."

Harry's insides quivered with guilt. Ginny and he had both realised, after the fact, that their separation had been a long time coming. Something between them had broken, some flame extinguished, and neither of them had wanted to acknowledge it. They'd been together for so many years. Ginny had been his wife and lover and confidante. He wasn't sure who he'd be without her by his side, and he'd selfishly ignored the signs in an effort not to have to find out. If somebody had asked him two years ago, he would have said that the best thing for his children, for his family, would be for him and Ginny to remain one united unit. Now, though, it was obvious that he hadn't considered how the changing relationship between them had affected his children. James, Albus, and Lily were all incredibly bright and perceptive. It had been naïve to think that they wouldn't see the changes, wouldn't realise that their parents weren't as happy as they used to be. He hated that he'd put them through that.

"You're right. I'm sorry that it took us so long to work things out."

Lily smiled, and this time it was brighter. "It's okay, I'm just glad that you _did_ work things out. Both of you seem...lighter now. I know it's not perfect, but I think you made the right decision."

Harry hesitated, before asking the question that had been on his mind a lot over the past few months. A question he wasn't sure he really had the right to ask. "Your Mum...she's doing alright?" 

Something complicated flickered over Lily's face. "Yeah, she's doing alright. She misses you, and James and Albus, too. I think it's hard for her, staying in the house where we were all a family together. But she's going to be fine. She got a promotion at the paper, and now she'll be covering more international games. I think she's looking forward to the chance to travel again, like she did when she was still playing."

"That's...that's good. Really good." Ginny had always loved travelling. It had been one of the few things she'd truly missed once they'd started having children. Harry had tried to take them on family holidays as often as he could, but once he'd been made Head Auror, there hadn't been much time for travel. He'd been one of the youngest wizards to ever hold the position, and he had been determined to prove himself worthy. Harry was glad she was finally getting a chance to pursue something she loved so much. "Okay, why don't I finish trying on the rest of these clothes, and then we can go grab some lunch?"

Lily grinned and nodded. "Sounds great." Harry turned to head back into the dressing room, pausing at the curtain when Lily called out, "Dad."

"Yeah, Lils?"

"It really is fine with me if you want to start dating again. I want you to be happy." She paused, and when she spoke again her tone had changed. "Whoever is it, I won't mind."

Harry's fist squeezed the fabric of the curtain tight as he managed to force out, "Thanks, sweetheart." There had been something in Lily's voice. Something knowing and pointed. According to James, Lily hadn't been in the group that had overheard Draco and his conversation, but Harry had an inkling that she wasn't completely in the dark. It seemed like all of his children were determined to know more about his love life than Harry himself.

His heart stuttered as thoughts of his currently non-existent love life turned to thoughts of his upcoming lunch with Draco. He wasn't dating, not yet, but Harry could admit that he hoped that may change. Soon.


	6. Chapter 5

Draco was late.

Harry tried to tell himself not to worry. It was only by a couple of minutes, and Draco had always been late back when they'd been seeing one another, but it didn't stop the beginnings of panic from creeping in. This was just two old...friends (lovers, acquaintances, enemies?) getting lunch. It wasn't a date. It wasn't anything serious, but Harry wanted it to be the beginning of something. He wanted to know if that flicker of heat he felt in his belly every time he saw Draco was just the echo of a long-ago flame, or a quietly burning ember waiting to reignite.

Harry was just beginning to debate the merits of sending Draco a politely inquiring owl, when the man in question appeared in the door to the restaurant. Harry's chest expanded as he took in the fine tailoring of his navy robes and subtle silver accents. He was beautiful, and Harry ached for him. This didn't feel like some pathetic attempt to revive a ghostly memory of the past. The blood pumping through his veins was hot and real as it carried desire out to every last inch of Harry's body. He closed his eyes against the sudden and unexpected onslaught, reminding himself that he was in a public restaurant, and that Draco had only barely agreed to a friendly lunch. No need to scare him off just yet.

Satisfied he had himself under control, Harry opened his eyes and waved Draco over. Draco moved with the same easy grace he always had, but Harry caught the underlying tension in his movements. Harry wasn't the only one who felt off-kilter.

"I'm glad you could make it, Draco."

Draco let out a small, tight-lipped smile as he sat across from Harry. "Yes, well, you're a hard man to say no to."

Harry bit his tongue to keep from responding, surprised by the sudden flash of bitterness that had flooded through him at Draco's words. Draco hadn't seemed to have much difficulty saying no when he'd walked away from Harry all those years ago. Harry frowned. No, that wasn't fair. Draco may have said no, but Harry had never made it clear that he'd been asking a question in the first place. Harry had never said the words aloud, had never made them real. He'd asked in a million little gestures, in a thousand tender expressions, and in countless desperate moans against Draco's fevered skin, but neither of them had ever spelled things out. 

"Ah, well, err, how are you?"

Draco's lips quirked as he looked over the menu. "I'm quite well, thank you for asking. And yourself?"

"Oh, um, I'm also...well." Fuck, Harry felt like an idiot. He wasn't usually so lost for words, but being in Draco's presence again and knowing he had an entire lunch with Draco, was making Harry feel a little out of his depth.

An awkward silence fell over the table, and Harry felt pathetically grateful when the waitress came over to tell them about the specials. His brain scrambled for a conversation topic to bring up once they finished ordering. "How has work been going? Puddlemere's doing especially well this year."

Draco nodded, his body seeming to relax the tiniest fraction."Yes, the team's in great shape. We're still second in the league, but I think this could be our year to take first." He took a small sip of wine and tipped his glass towards Harry. "Thanks, in no small part, to James. This is his best year yet."

Harry smiled proudly. "It is, isn't it? I think it's partially because of Teddy. He's happy."

"Yes, he is." There was something almost wistful in Draco's tone. A sort of longing that Harry recognised in himself.

"He told me he's been thinking about coming out. Officially."

Draco's eyes turned thoughtful. "Yes, we've been talking over the best approach to take. The team will, of course, support him whatever he chooses. He's already come out to the team, and the players seem to be taking things well. Of course, they've already had to get used to a gay manager, so that helps. He's quite brave, your Gryffindor son. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised."

"He's not the only brave one." Draco looked at him in faint disbelief. "No, really. You think it wasn't brave, sticking things out after you'd been outed? It can't have been easy. I know you weren't playing anymore, but I'd imagine there were plenty of people who wanted you gone. You stuck your ground, and you've made things easier for people like my son to come after you."

Draco eyes were carefully guarded. Harry wanted to know what it would take for Harry to be granted the right to see the emotion swirling just under the obscured surface. "You're right, it wasn't easy. Things were...difficult for a long time after that, and there are still those who treat me differently. I don't know that I would say I was brave, though. I didn't choose to come out. I kept myself locked away until I was forced to deal with it."

"You did what you felt like you had to do to survive in the world and the industry. The important thing is that, once you were forced out, you didn't hide it, and you didn't run away. You're the best manager Puddlemere's seen in a long time, and you reminded people of that. Seeing a gay man be successful as a Quidditch manager is part of why James feels like he has the choice to come out his way without destroying his career."

Draco seemed to be at a loss for words. He stared at Harry forcefully, as if Harry was some kind of puzzle Draco was failing to solve. "I—thank you for saying that. I'm certainly glad James feels he has options. It will be hard for him, but hopefully less difficult than it was for me. He has his family, and Teddy, and the support of the team and I...I think he'll do fine."

Harry knew Draco was right, though he couldn't help but feel worried about the consequences of James's decision, and the inevitable backlash. It was a parent's right to worry, but he knew that James had to make his own choices. As safe as it may be to downplay his sexuality, that wasn't a decision Harry could make for him. At the end of the day, he just wanted his son to be happy, and he'd do whatever it took to help make that happen.

"Speaking of children, how are Albus and Lily?" 

"They're doing well. Lily is still living with her mother while she studies to be a solicitor; she wants to follow in Hermione's footsteps working advocating for the legal rights of Magical Beings." Harry watched Draco's face as he mentioned Hermione and Magical Beings, looking for any possible signs of contempt, but Draco, much to Harry's satisfaction, merely looked politely inquiring. "As for Albus, well, you probably know as much about him as I do. He and Scorpius are thick as thieves. I know Albus is doing well as a Healer trainee, and I don't ask for too many details about the rest."

"Ah yes, those two make quite the pair, don't they? Since they've been out of Hogwarts, I don't know whether to be happy I'm no longer receiving an owl a week about their antics, or worried that there's no longer anybody keeping them in check."

Harry laughed. "I know what you mean. But they're good kids, both of them. They're having fun, but I don't think we've got to worry too much about them."

"Yes, I think you're right."

There was another beat of silence, and Harry pulled a stray thought out of his head and gave it voice. "Astoria. I remember she was one of your best friends, and Scorpius mentioned you two were still close. How is she doing? She moved out of the country after your divorce, right?"

Draco took another drink of wine, swishing it around in his mouth before swallowing and responding. "Yes, Astoria and I are still close. The divorce was entirely amicable. She knew who I was before we got married, and we had a long-standing agreement that if either of us fell in love, we would call it a day. She met a man in Spain, a painter. He's a little—" Draco waved his hand around in a gesture Harry could only interpret as _one of those artistic types_ , "—for my tastes, but he's quite attractive and very talented. They're mad for each other." That wistful expression crossed Draco's face again for only a moment, flickering over the polite façade like an eerie apparition. "I gave her away at their wedding, you know. It was a lovely ceremony."

As Draco spoke, it hit Harry again how much time had passed since they'd last been in each other's lives. This Draco had years and years of experiences that Harry didn't know the first thing about. It was strange, thinking about all that there was still left to know about Draco Malfoy. Yet, with all of those unknown loves and losses, triumphs and failures, Harry still felt like he _knew_ Draco. A deeper knowledge that transcended time and space.

"I'm happy to hear that."

Draco opened his mouth, hesitating for a moment before asking, "What about you and your ex-wife?"

A strange sense of déjà vu washed over Harry. He remembered their first lunch together all of those years ago, Draco asking with that same tentative tone about his and Ginny's relationship. Only back then, she'd been his ex-girlfriend, not his ex-wife. Even the thought of the word still sent a tiny sliver of pain pulsing through him, a wound scabbed over but not entirely healed.

"We're...we're fine. I think we're both still working things out, how to be our own people, how to be together and not _together_. It's still a little hard, but I think the divorce saved our relationship. I don't know what we would have been like in another twenty years. Now, I know we'll be okay. We just need a little time."

"That's—I'm glad. She was always important to you. I'm happy that things didn't end too poorly between you two." Draco's face was creased with understanding, his eyes clear and kind. Harry dug his fingers into his thighs in an effort not to reach out and touch.

The waitress came over with their food and conversation died off as they began to eat, but Harry's mind was not quiet. It was shocking, how strong his feelings were for Draco, even after all these years. He'd be lying if he said that Draco hadn't crossed his mind more frequently than he would have liked over the years, but he'd thought of Draco with a sort of dull ache, wishing that he hadn't had to give him up entirely, wondering what Draco was up to now. He'd certainly never felt like his body might go up in flames if Draco looked at him right.

Beneath all of that want, though, lurked the guilt. It had been less than six months since Ginny and he had separated, and even less than that since they'd been officially divorced. Surely he was a terrible person for moving on so quickly, wasn't he? He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt like this about Ginny. He couldn't remember the last time his beautiful, loving, wonderful wife had made him feel so reckless and alive. Harry knew that she had, once, that there had been a time when he'd felt invincible in her arms. It saddened him, thinking of that loss, ruminating on the years they'd lost by refusing to see they were no longer right for each other. It hurt, remembering that that first bloom of love, the rush of heat that had transmuted into something gentler, deeper. They'd both thought that bond would be unbreakable, that it would weather the passage of time. But it, too, had faded, though it had lasted far longer than the frenzied passion of their newlywed days.

Harry took a bite of lamb, watching with far too much fascination as Draco speared a piece of lettuce and brought it to his lips. He wondered if the same thing that had happened to Ginny and him would happen with Draco, if things ever progressed that far. Would this connection between them fizzle out and die, wither on the vine instead of growing thick and strong? 

Merlin, Harry could hardly believe himself, thinking about him and Draco years down the line when they hadn't even been on an official date. Whatever happened between them, Draco wasn't Ginny, and Harry knew he couldn't let fear rule his life. He made his own path, and every cell in him burned with the desire to make that path with Draco.

They continued to talk over lunch, Harry telling old Auror stories, Draco talking about the differences in playing Quidditch versus managing a team. There was an undeniable undercurrent of tension and possibility thrumming between them, but the conversation flowed easily after that initial awkwardness. Harry found himself reluctantly counting down the minutes as the lunch hour ticked away, wishing he could drag things out just a little longer.

After they'd finished with their meal, they walked together towards an alley where they could Disapparate in relative secrecy. Harry turned towards Draco, not sure what to say but knowing he had to say _something_. Draco was so close, just inches away, his grey eyes vibrant with suppressed feeling. Harry knew that he wasn't the only one who had felt that spark between them.

Their breaths mingled in the cool air, desire crackling between them like wild magic. God, Harry had never wanted to kiss somebody so badly in his entire life. He swayed forwards, lips pulling towards Draco like they'd been magnetised. For a split second, Draco swayed forward too, the brush of their lips a suggestion about to become reality.

Draco stepped back, leaving Harry to waver dizzily and blink over at him in confusion.

"I told you we couldn't be friends," Draco said, voice shaky and expression pained.

"Alright, so let's not just be friends. Go on a date with me." Harry wasn't about to let Draco out of his life so easily, and Harry's divorce meant they were no longer an impossibility.

"And what happens when people see us out together, the infamously gay ex-Death Eater, and the Chosen One eating dinner? Or did you plan on keeping us a secret again?" Draco's previously warm eyes had turned to polished stone.

Harry scowled. "I was never the one who wanted to hide." Even as he said it, he knew that wasn't entirely true. He certainly hadn't wanted to scream about their liaison from the mountain tops, and he hadn't had as much to lose as Draco. Harry knew though, that if Draco had wanted to go public, Harry would've without a second thought.

Draco's lips twisted into an ugly sneer. "No, you were the one who was too cowardly and ashamed to tell your friends."

Harry winced. That wasn't completely a lie, but it certainly wasn't the whole truth, and Draco knew it.

"If I tell them now, will you go out with me?"

Draco's face went slack with shock. "What?"

"If I tell Ron and Hermione that we used to…" Harry waved his hand around to encompass them both, "—and that I still want you, will you go out on a date with me? A proper one."

"Sure, Potter. You tell your friends that you like men, that you like _me_ , and I'll go out to dinner with you." His tone implied this outcome was extremely unlikely, but Harry could hear the thread of hopefulness underlying it. This was a challenge they both wanted Harry to win. 

Draco Disapparated with a crack, leaving Harry to stare at the spot where Draco had been a moment earlier, a smile spreading across his face.

Progress.


	7. Chapter 6

"Harry! How are you?" Hermione asked as she pulled him in for a hug and kissed him on the cheek. 

"I'm fine, Hermione." She gave him a searching look as he smiled. "Truly."

"Well, I'm glad." She led him into the kitchen where Ron was stirring something on the stove that smelled delicious. "Harry's here."

Ron looked up. "Come and try this, Harry. I'm not sure if it needs more oregano." 

Harry gamely tasted the tomato sauce. It was perfect. "No more oregano needed."

"Excellent. Food should be ready in a few minutes then."

"I'm glad you finally accepted one of our dinner invitations, Harry," Hermione said as she pressed a glass of red wine into his hand. There was only the faintest hint of reproach in her voice.

"I know, I'm sorry. Things have been…weird these past few months. I think I needed a little space to get my head on straight."

Hermione nodded thoughtfully. "Just don't forget you have friends, Harry. I know things are a little more complicated now, but Ron and I will always be here for you." She looked him in the eyes, expression fierce. "Always."

"I know. That's part of why I'm here, actually."

"Oh?" Hermione looked intrigued.

"Dinner's ready!" Ron called out from the far side of the kitchen.

"It'll keep. Food first, yeah?"

"Of course."

As it always did, dinner with Ron and Hermione grounded him. He'd been worried about the dynamic, now that Ginny wasn't there, but Harry realised that he'd been worrying for nothing. Ron, Hermione, and he had been friends for a significant majority of their lives. They'd survived wars, dragons, and petty jealousies; they could survive anything. 

They spent the meal talking about their jobs and their children, catching up on the past few months as if it wasn't strange that this was the most in-depth conversation they'd had together in months. It wasn't until they'd finished eating and moved to the living room that the underlying reason for Harry's visit came up.

"So, Harry, what's on your mind?" Ron asked during a lull in conversation.

"Ron!" Hermione reprimanded. It was obvious she had been waiting for Harry to bring it up first. Harry could tell it had been killing her not to jump right it.

"What? It's obvious that something's been eating at him. He's been struggling with whatever it is all night. I figured I'd save us all the trouble and get the ball rolling."

Hermione sighed in fond exasperation, and Harry couldn't help the small smile that stole across his face. These were his best friends. They loved him. It would be fine. Still...

"I'm not really sure I know where to start."

"Does this have to do with the divorce?" Hermione asked tentatively. Harry and Ginny had both explained to their friends why they were splitting up, but it had felt strange going into details with Ron and Hermione, knowing how much they loved Ginny as well. He knew the fact that he and Ginny had separated had been hard on them.

"Not really. Not exactly. Ginny and I...I loved her, I don't regret anything, we just grew apart. We changed, but not together. Somewhere along the way I realised that I love her, but I'm no longer _in_ love with her."

"But…?" 

"It doesn't have anything to do with why we divorced. But it's something that might come up and I don't want to hide anything, especially not from you, not anymore." Ron and Hermione exchanged puzzled, worried glances, and Harry tried to swallow down his anxiety. If he was going to tell them, he should start from the beginning. "Why didn't you ask me about what I was doing that year and a half before Ginny and I got back together?

They blinked slowly, clearly thrown by the turn the conversation had taken. Harry pressed on. "I know you both realised I was seeing somebody or going out and...there were plenty of nights I couldn't come over and my excuses were crap. I can't believe I thought I was being sneaky. You had to have known something was up."

Both Ron and Hermione seemed to have recovered, comprehension settling into their expressions. "We didn't want to pressure you," Hermione said. "We thought that you'd tell us when you were ready, when it became important enough for us to know. You seemed happier than you'd been since before that war. We didn't want to ruin that by pressing you to talk before you wanted to."

"Did you want us to ask?"

Harry sighed. "No. I wouldn't have said anything if you did. I was...involved with somebody, one somebody. It was only ever supposed to be a casual thing—part of why I never brought it up."

"Supposed to?" Hermione prodded.

"I'm pretty sure I was in love with them."

Hermione sucked in a breath. Ron only nodded. "If you loved them, why did you get back together with my sister?" He didn't sound angry. He didn't even sound curious. It was as if he already knew the answer and was just waiting for Harry to confirm it.

"I was still in love with Gin, too. I never stopped loving her, and…" He took a deep breath. "The person I was with...it was a bloke."

Hermione's eyes widened in astonishment, but to Harry's surprise, Ron only looked quietly thoughtful.

"You don't seemed shocked."

"I guess I'm not," Ron said after a moment. "There was that party Mum threw, after the war, when she was still desperately trying to pretend that everything was okay. There was something about the way you looked at Charlie that made me wonder. And then you didn't really date anybody after you and Gin broke up..."

"You never told me that!" Hermione said.

"I thought I'd just been seeing things," Ron complained, defensively. "Harry never brought anybody 'round, and then he married Gin. It was obvious that was real. Honestly, I'd forgotten about that party and my suspicion until just now."

Harry remembered that party. He remembered the giddy, guilty feeling of being alive, Firewhisky burning through his veins. Charlie had come to the party with one of his friends from Romania, a handsome bloke with dark skin and warm eyes. He'd seen them leaning a little too close, their touches lingering a little too long. It had sent goose flesh shivering over his skin, a wriggling, squirmy feeling settling into his stomach. Harry was impressed and a little embarrassed that Ron had seen and understood what was happening to Harry with such clarity. Especially since, at the time, Harry hadn't quite realised it himself.

"Why didn't you tell us, Harry? God, it's been over twenty years!" Hermione's voice was tremulous, and she didn't bother hiding the hurt.

Harry cringed. He'd known they'd be upset that he hadn't confided in them, but being confronted with the reality of it was still uncomfortable. "It wasn't about you. I love you both, I know you would have been okay with it. I was...well I wasn't really sure what to say, how to tell you. Not just about the bloke thing, but about _who_ the bloke was."

Ron's eyes narrowed. "It wasn't Charlie, was it? Because—"

"No, it wasn't Charlie." Harry let out an inelegant snort of laughter. "How do you think that would've worked? He was all the way in Romania the majority of the time."

Ron huffed and Hermione's brows furrowed in thought. Harry could practically see the moment when she connected the dots, shock sliding easily over her expression. "Oh, Harry. Tell me it wasn't—"

Harry smiled weakly. "Do you see why I couldn't have told you back then? You all _hated_ him. And, well, I did too, sometimes, but maybe that was part of it." Harry's skin warmed at the memory of bitten lips and pinned wrists. He cleared his throat. "It was only ever supposed to be a physical thing. I wasn't supposed to..." 

Hermione's eyes were perfectly round; Ron's were squinty with confusion. "You've lost me. Who is it you were seeing? And why has it broken Hermione?"

Harry sighed, bracing himself before finally saying it aloud. "Draco Malfoy."

Ron's mouth dropped open. "Well, fuck me." Harry's cheeks reddened further and some of what he was thinking must have shown on his face, because Ron groaned loudly. "Oh, mate, why'd you have to go and put that image in my head!"

"I'm sorry," Harry said miserably. He didn't particularly want Ron picturing it either.

After several long, uncomfortable moments of silence, Hermione said tentatively, "Why are you bringing this up now, Harry?"

"We had lunch, earlier this week, Draco and I." Two pairs of eyebrows crept up towards hairlines. "He's been on my mind a lot lately," Harry admitted. "Being back in Grimmauld Place, hearing James go on about him...We ran into one another outside Gringotts, and I asked him to lunch."

"Do you still...have feelings for him?" Ron asked. The idea of it was clearly a little mystifying to Ron, but Harry appreciated the effort.

"Yeah, I think I do. He's different—we both are—but I want to see if...if maybe we could be something."

"Does Ginny know?"

"She knows that I like men, but she doesn't know about Draco. Both of us agreed to leave past relationships behind us when we got back together."

"This isn't only a past relationship, Harry. This sound like it could be a future one." Hope and possibility fluttered in Harry's stomach at Hermione's assertion, at the easy way she accepted that Harry and Draco could be dating. Hermione smiled softly. "We're different, too, Harry. Older. I'm sorry that you didn't feel like you could come to me back then, but I understand why you didn't. I was...angry, and Malfoy was an easy, and not entirely undeserving, target. But life looks different after twenty years and two children. If you want to see Malfoy, I'll support you."

"Yeah, mate. You know we've got your back. No matter who you're interested in." Ron couldn't seem to bring himself to say Draco's name, but it was a step, and Harry was grateful for it.

"You shouldn't wait too long before telling Ginny, though. Better she hears about it from you than from the _Prophet_."

Harry shuddered. "Hopefully it won't come to that. I'm still not quite sure where I stand with Draco. Lunch didn't end as...amiably as I'd been hoping. As soon as there's something to tell, I'll tell her."

Harry fervently hoped that Draco would give them a chance, especially once he told Draco that he'd come clean to his best friends. 

Tomorrow. Harry was going to go to Draco's office tomorrow to ask him out on a date, and Harry was going to try his damnedest to convince Draco to say yes.

~~~~~

The door to Draco's office was open, so Harry strode right in without knocking. Draco was at his desk, a pair of thin wire-rimmed glasses perched on his nose as he read a sheet of parchment. Harry paused in shock and overwhelming arousal.

Draco looked up in surprise, eyes widening behind his spectacles when he saw who it was. "Harry."

"Hello, Draco," Harry finally managed to get out after a moment of silence. He had remembered to change out of his Auror uniform this time, and he was wearing some of the new clothing that Lily had helped him choose. Draco's eyes slid over his form in what looked like appreciation. Harry's insides did a little dance of pleasure.

"What can I do for you?" Draco asked politely, clearly trying to mask how much Harry's sudden appearance had thrown him off balance.

Harry drew himself up, remembering his mission and trying not to let himself be derailed by Draco's unfairly attractive eyewear. "I've told Ron and Hermione about us, so I'm here to ask you on a date."

Draco's mouth dropped open. A deliciously pink circle of surprise that made Harry want to thread his fingers through Draco's hair and urge him to his knees. He shook the filthy thoughts away as Draco sputtered out, "Us?"

"Yes. I told them about our past, and that I'd like us to have a future."

"You did?" Draco seemed to be having difficulty wrapping his mind around Harry's confession.

"I told you I would, Draco. I'm not playing around. There's something here between us, don't you feel it?"

"I—" Draco faltered as he pushed his glasses up and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. It was such an unconsciously charming gesture, calling attention to the fact that Draco must have worn glasses for a while. "It's been over twenty years, Harry. Why are you adamant that we date? It didn't work the first time around, what makes you think that this will be any different?"

"Because we're different. I don't want the same things I did when I was a kid, and neither do you. There's no reason for either of us to play by anybody else's rules any more. I regret not telling you how I felt the first time around. I'm not making the same mistake twice."

"Oh," Draco breathed, his eyes as round as Quaffles. Beneath his shirt, Harry could see the rapid movement of his chest and the flush creeping up from under his collar, telling Harry that he wasn't unaffected.

"Is that good enough to earn me a date?"

Draco's cheeks coloured, and Harry could tell he was flustered. "I, uh, yes, I suppose it is."

Harry's grin was triumphant. "Excellent. This Friday. At seven. We can meet at Grimmauld Place and Apparate together."

"I—alright." Draco paused before adding, "I'm looking forward to it."

"So am I." Harry turned to leave, not wanting to overstay his welcome, and desperately wanting to make it out of Draco's eyesight so he could dance a little victory jig, and then head home so he could have a victory wank. He paused at the door, turning to look back at Draco, who was staring after Harry with a small smile on his face.

"Oh, and Draco?"

"Yes?"

"I really like the glasses."


	8. Chapter 7

The Italian restaurant was cosy and thoughtfully decorated, all dark mahogany and warm, neutral colours. It was thoroughly Muggle, far away from the wizarding areas of the city. Harry loved it. He'd come here a few time with friends and family in the past, when he hadn't wanted to deal with the press and crowds. 

Now, though, the restaurant seemed to take on a different quality as Harry sat across the table from Draco Malfoy. The lighting was low, the music gently wafted through the air, and the surrounding chatter was hushed and almost reverent, making it feel like Draco and Harry were in their own little world. It was unbearably intimate, the type of setting that begged for clasped hands and entwined legs and longing, heated glances. 

"Still hiding, I see." Draco broke the heated silence with a pointed glance around the room. It clearly hadn't escaped his notice that Harry had brought him to a discreet Muggle restaurant for their first date. Despite his words, Harry knew Draco didn't really mind.

"There's a difference between hiding and privacy. I'm not ashamed of this, of us, but I'd like to give us a chance to see where things go before we bring the whole world in on our private business."

Draco's lips stretched into a smile and he tilted his head in acknowledgement. Harry felt a strange rush of triumph. His gaze roamed over Draco's immaculate form, the midnight blue dress shirt that made Draco's hair and skin glow, the artful styling of his hair and his ever-sharp eyes. They'd seemed softer somehow, hidden behind stylish frames in Draco's office, as if the lenses had gentled the lines on him.

"How long have you worn glasses?"

Draco pursed his lips. "Several years now. These old eyes aren't what they used to be."

"They suit you. You should wear them more often."

"I only need them for reading."

Harry grinned. "That's a pity." Draco's cheeks darkened prettily. 

"Alright, I've gone, now it's your turn."

"My turn for what?"

"Your turn to tell me something new. Tell me something about you that's different since we...parted ways. It's been over twenty years, I'm sure that plenty has changed."

 _Apparently not my feelings for you,_ Harry thought, though he wisely kept that to himself.

"Well….I have children now."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Something I don't already know."

"Hmm…" Harry swirled the wine around in his glass as he thought. "I have a tattoo now."

Draco's eyes darkened noticeably and Harry shivered in response. 

"Oh?" Draco's voice had dropped an octave. "Don't leave me in suspense."

His predatory gaze was a shock to Harry's system. "Yeah, I've got several, actually, but they're all part of the same design on my upper arm and shoulder."

"What did you get?" Draco's voice was still heated, but there was a softness there, too, as if he could tell that the tattoos meant something to Harry.

"Things that were important to me, that shaped me." Harry looked over at Draco and grinned, letting the faintest hint of wicked promise linger at the corners of his mouth. "If you're lucky, maybe you'll get to see them later."

Draco sucked in a breath, grey eyes drowning in black before he pulled himself back together. "As you say."

The waiter brought over plates of baked ziti and garlic bread and lasagna, but the food did nothing to dissipate the tension crackling between them. The air felt thick with unsaid words and unspoken promises. 

Harry knew he wasn't the only one who felt it. They were both staring just a little too long, fingers brushing far too often over the basket of garlic bread. Harry felt Draco's gaze upon him like a physical caress, and he _wanted_.

"This is...far more intense than I'd been expecting," Draco admitted, after a particularly heated glance. "I don't know why I'd thought it wouldn't be. You've always had a talent for making me lose my head."

That talent was definitely mutual; Harry already felt half out of his mind with wanting to touch. "Nothing we can't handle," Harry said, not believing a single word. He knew that they should wait, that they should take things slow as they learned how to be together again. Harry wasn't sure he could wait that long. He wanted Draco now.

Harry reached for his water, hands shaking as memories and fantasies overwhelmed him: him and Draco together, naked and writhing. Harry entire body was literally trembling with the force of his need. Draco watched him with a quiet, steady hunger that made Harry's stomach clench.

What felt like hours later they finally finished eating. Like they had at lunch, they walked together to a nearby alley to Disapparate.

The air was still charged between them, none of the tension dispersing under the broad night sky. Harry knew he should say his goodbyes and head back to Grimmauld Place alone, carrying the memory of Draco's hair glowing under the streetlamps. He'd have a spectacular wank, and then he'd send an owl over to Draco in the morning, asking him on another date. That was the smart thing to do, the practical thing.

Draco was close enough that Harry could see the smooth texture of his skin, the faint wrinkles around his eyes that betrayed Draco's cool and stony facade. His eyes were intent on Harry's and just like before, Harry felt that same bone deep pull towards Draco. He swayed forward, and this time, Draco swayed too, until their lips were meeting tremulously in the middle. 

The first brush of their lips was tentative, questioning, but it didn't stay that way for long. The dam of their desire had burst, and every last ounce of feeling came flooding out, pulling and pressing them together in a violent crashing current. Draco's mouth felt different, strong and commanding, his lips firmer, his experience more evident. They kissed with everything they had, all the frustration and longing, all the hurt and passion. Draco shoved Harry back against a brick wall, and Harry let him. His knees felt shaky and weak, his head swam from lack of oxygen, but Draco's lips felt more essential than standing, more essential than breathing. 

Harry didn't know how long they stood there kissing against that dirty wall in the alleyway, but it was long enough for the first flush of furious passion to slip into something slower and hotter, something sensual and wicked and full of filthy intent. Draco pulled back, their lips so reluctant to part that he didn't go far. He hovered in front of Harry, their breaths mingling, eyes lost in each other's gazes. 

He knew he should leave, but Harry didn't want to. Harry wanted everything that kiss had promised. He was hard, unbearably turned on, and all he wanted was Draco. It would take a man made of steel to walk away now.

"Come home with me." Harry hardly recognised the smokey, lust-infused tone of his voice.

Draco stared at him for long moments, and Harry felt a tiny pebble of fear begin to work itself down his throat. Maybe this was too fast, maybe he'd just scared Draco off. 

"Alright," Draco murmured. Harry's eyes widened. "Will you do the honors?" Draco held out his arm in a blatant offer.

Harry's heart thudded as he took hold of Draco's bicep, and thought of Grimmauld Place.


	9. Chapter 8

They appeared in the middle of Harry's bedroom, which he'd thankfully thought to clean that morning. Draco smirked.

"Awfully presumptuous of you, taking us straight to your bedroom."

"We could go downstairs for a drink, if you'd like?"

Draco snorted and reached for Harry's shirt, tugging him close. "Not a chance."

Draco's lips were devouring, smooth and hot and utterly consuming. Harry's body felt electric, every brush of Draco's fingers sending a flurry of sparks cascading over his skin. Harry shoved Draco against his dresser as they stumbled towards the bed, desperate to press himself all along Draco's body. Loose objects rattled with the impact and a pair of cufflinks rolled off the surface and onto the carpet. Harry didn't care, not when Draco was licking the inside of Harry's mouth with mind-numbing skill. 

Somehow, their shirts ended up on the floor, and Harry's hands ran greedily over the smooth planes of Draco's chest. Time seemed to be skipping and jumping, rushing past in a blur before slowing down to a crawl, the thud of Harry's heart the only constant, an uneven metronome. Harry's fingers found the scars he'd left on Draco's chest so long ago, worn nearly invisible with the passage of time. The guilt of it had faded, too, now only a twinge of regret, coupled with a shameful pleasure that Draco still carried Harry around with him on his skin. The shoulders beneath his hands were broader, the stomach a little less firm, and the skin a little softer. Harry could remember the way Draco's twenty-year old body had felt beneath his palms, the tight skin and sharp edges. They'd been so desperate for each other back then, so young and limber and energetic, but Harry didn't want to go back. There was a new kind of hunger eating at his insides now, one that craved more than just Draco's body. He wanted this Draco, the one with crinkles around his eyes and half a lifetime under his belt. Harry liked that their bodies both bore evidence of their lives, that they matched.

"Bed," Harry croaked, when the need vibrating beneath his skin became too much to bear.

"Yes, okay, let's—" Draco pushed them towards Harry's mattress, tugging at Harry's jeans and his own trousers. Harry helped, hopping and stumbling and wriggling until they were both standing by the mattress in only their pants. 

Harry's breath was ragged as he took Draco in, the sexily tousled hair, his heaving chest, the way his black briefs clung to his legs. He was already hard, the thick, mouth-watering girth of him stretching out the fabric. The sight of it made Harry want to get on his knees, made him want to mouth at the cloth until it was soaked through, before pulling it down and swallowing Draco's cock. But Harry's knees weren't what they used to be, and as much as he wanted to put his mouth on Draco, there was something he wanted even more.

Nerves singing, Harry slipped his fingers beneath the waistband of his own pants and shoved them down, kicking them off and away. Draco's eyes darkened. His breath hitched. 

"Fuck, Harry," he growled as he stepped close, skimming his hands down Harry's sides. "You look…"

"Old?" he teased, only half joking. He knew how much he still wanted Draco, but part of him was nervous that Draco wouldn't feel quite the same. Maybe Draco would be disappointed that the body in front of him wasn't the same as the twenty-year old image of Harry he had in his head.

Draco's eyes flashed, and his gaze lingered on the sprawling tattoo on Harry's arm and shoulder. Harry's stomach somersaulted at the naked want. "You look even better than I remembered." 

Harry felt his cheeks heat with a ridiculous blush. "Yeah?"

"Yes." Draco leaned forward and nipped at Harry's lips. His hand reached Harry's cock and firm fingers wrapped around Harry's shaft, making Harry shudder. "What do you want, Harry?"

"I want to see you naked." 

Draco twisted his wrist and Harry gasped against his lips. "And once you get me naked?"

"I—" Draco's hand continued moving over him, making his legs feel as shaky as a newborn Abraxan's. He couldn't think, couldn't speak, but he knew Draco was waiting with his smoldering eyes and smug expression. "I want you to fuck me."

Draco's hand stopped, eyes widening in surprise. "Are you sure?"

Harry tugged him close, slipping his hands down the back of Draco's pants and grabbing Draco's arse as he kissed Draco with an almost savage intensity. Of course he was fucking sure. It felt like he'd never been more sure of anything in his life. 

"Just go slowly," Harry breathed when they finally parted. Draco blinked at him dazedly, and Harry added, "It's been a while."

"How long's _a while_?"

Harry's body flushed, but he refused to feel embarrassed as he broke away and slid back onto the mattress to stare up at Draco. "Twenty-five years, give or take."

Draco's entire body shuddered, and his cock throbbed visibly against the fabric of his pants. "You never...with anybody else?"

Harry shook his head. "Ginny and I tried a few times, when things got a little stale, but she didn't much care for it."

Draco's expression was all predator as he stripped out of his pants and crawled up onto the bed between Harry's legs. The sight of him naked and wanting above Harry made his very core light up.

"What about since you split up?"

"There hasn't been anybody. No one but you."

Draco's smile was possessive. It shouldn't have been as hot as it was but Harry's cock twitched anyway. 

"What about toys? Fingers?" Draco asked, as he ran a single finger up the underside of Harry's prick.

"Usually— _oh_ —usually that's too much effort for a wank. S'not as good if there isn't somebody with me, making me want it."

"Do I make you want it?"

Harry's chest was tight, his skin stretched thin to keep in all the want and desire filling Harry up from the inside. "Yes. _Fuck_ , Draco, it's all I can think about."

"Lube?"

With a careless wave of his hand, Harry summoned the lube from his bedside table. He held it out towards Draco, his brows furrowing at the strange expression on Draco's face.

"What?"

"You're unbelievable," Draco growled, swiping the lube almost angrily and coating his fingers. "You don't even realise it, do you? Bloody infuriating."

Cool, wet fingers circled Harry's entrance, and he did his best not to tense up at the gentle pressure. He wanted this, even if his body had trouble remembering the steps.

Slowly, Draco's finger pushed inside, the pressure strange and familiar all at once. Draco let him get used to the intrusion, his finger moving with slow and steady purpose. It wasn't until Harry was pressing back against it, urging Draco to move faster, harder, that Draco slid a second finger inside of him. It stung as his muscles struggled to relax around the digits, but the pain faded quickly as Draco moved inside of him. His fingers rotated and twisted, and then pleasure was spiraling through Harry, spilling and tumbling through his veins as Draco rubbed against his prostate. Harry's legs splayed wider, his ankles digging into the soft blankets as he rocked himself down onto Draco's fingers, chasing the blinding pleasure. He barely even noticed Draco slipping a third finger inside, he was so lost in his greedy gyrations.

"Come on, come on, I'm ready. You can fuck me now."

Draco took him at his word, twisting his fingers one last time before slipping out of Harry entirely. He felt their absence keenly, as if missing more than just their physical presence, but the sound of Draco slicking his cock made the discomfort worth it. Draco shuffled forward, his cock brushing up against Harry's hole, but suddenly Harry wanted something different.

"Wait," he said, clamping his legs tight around Draco's waist, halting his forward momentum. Draco looked at him, a trace of worry in his eyes, and Harry grinned back reassuringly. "I want to ride you."

Draco's pupils blew, turning his eyes the colour of pitch. "Yeah, we could do that."

A couple of seconds later Draco was flat on his back, and Harry was straddling his slim hips. Draco's thick cock was hard between Harry's cheeks, and he couldn't help but wriggle down against it, relishing the slick catch of foreskin against his rim. Draco's hands dug into Harry's hips as he bucked up against Harry's arse impatiently.

"Yeah, yes, okay, give me a minute."

With shaking hands, Harry reached behind him and took hold of Draco's cock. He rose up on his knees and positioned himself over the slick head. Harry rubbed the spongy tip teasingly over himself a few times, gasping at the stimulation and the sweet promise of what was soon to come. Draco's jaw was tight, his fists clenched in the sheets in obvious effort to not to grab and take. Harry took mercy on him and began to slowly sink down on Draco's rigid length. 

It was slow going. Harry rocked down in small increments, taking more and more of Draco inside with each pass. He could feel his muscles stretching, his inner walls expanding as Draco began to fill him up. The sense of fullness was even more overwhelming than he remembered, but it felt good, a kind of bone-deep satisfaction settling in with every downward press. 

An eternity passed in the blink of an eye, and suddenly Harry's arse was nestled in the crook of Draco's groin. He let out a little trembling groan at the feeling of Draco's entire cock throbbing inside of his eager body. Tiny quivers of pleasurable shock vibrated through his muscles at the piercing pleasure of being so full for the first time in years, in decades. Harry stared down at Draco with wide eyes, the intensity and amazement of the moment mirrored in Draco's slack expression. Draco palms slid up Harry's thighs, dragging against his hair follicles as Draco's hands moved up towards Harry's waist. His eyes were clear pools of pure emotion, and Harry's chest expanded with possibility, with the knowledge that he wasn't in this alone.

Slowly, Harry began to move.

It was tentative at first, Harry raising up and settling back down, rocking and swiveling his hips as he relearned the rhythm. Draco let him experiment, patient and still as Harry unintentionally teased them. With age had come stamina, and Harry no longer felt that same burning need of youth to climax as quickly as possible. 

It didn't take long for him to find the angle that made his eyes flutter closed and his mouth drop open in a desperate shout for more. White-hot pleasure licked up his spine, threatening to turn his bones to liquid. Panting, he began to pick up speed, his pulse racing as he fucked himself on Draco's cock over and over again. He moved until his thighs burned, until sweat dripped down his forehead and stung his eyes. When he began to flag, Draco took up the pounding rhythm, gripping Harry's hips and thrusting up into him with a speed and accuracy that knocked the wind from Harry's lungs. 

Harry tried to keep his eyes open, tried to look down at Draco all sweaty and gorgeous, but the pleasure was near blinding in its intensity. The beginnings of his orgasm sparked hot and bright in his groin, and finally, he couldn't put it off any longer. With a long moan, he wrapped a hand around his cock, wanking himself as he rocked down into Draco's thrusts.

"Oh, God, oh, _fuck_. Fuck, I'm close," Harry gasped, breath stuttering with the force of Draco's fucking.

"Yeah?" Draco's voice was low and breathy. "You going to come for me, Harry? Going to make yourself come on my cock?"

Harry let out a garbled _"Nnhgh"_ sound as he came, his cock spurting in thick drops all over Draco's chest. His release gleamed pearly white against Draco's skin, and the sight set the prowling monster in Harry's chest purring with possessive satisfaction. He slumped forward, kissing Draco's chest and throat while Draco continued to furiously pump his hips. It didn't take long until Draco climaxed, emptying himself inside Harry.

After several moments, Harry lifted himself off Draco's softening cock, wincing a little at the sudden emptiness and the slow trickle of come leaking out of his arsehole. Despite the burn in his thighs and the ache in his arse, Harry couldn't remember feeling so satisfied in a long while. He flopped back on the bed besides Draco, chest heaving as he came down from his orgasm.

"That was..." Harry trailed off, grinning helplessly up at the ceiling.

Draco propped himself up on his elbow next to Harry, looking rumpled and sexy and beautifully content. 

"Yes, it was," Draco agreed. He leaned forward, his fingers coming up to trace the curve of Harry's lips. Harry tongue instinctively darted out to lick at the salty skin of Draco's thumb, and Draco's eyes flared hot, before his fingers danced away, leaving Harry breathless.

Draco's thumbs skated over Harry's cheekbones and down the curve of his jaw, a slow slide of fire across Harry's skin. Smooth fingertips ran down the expanse of his neck, turning his head aside and baring Harry's throat. There was something vulnerable and submissive in the gesture, in exposing his sensitive throat to Draco's devouring gaze. It sent an eager thrill running through him. 

His heart pounded as Draco's questing digits moved on to his shoulder, outlining the familiar shapes of Harry's interlocking tattoos. Draco moved over the stag on Harry's clavicle, its antlers wreathed in lilies. He followed the silhouette of a shaggy black dog and a wolf playing beneath a full moon. Gentle touches mapped out a lion roaring at a darting snitch, a three-headed dog guarding the Deathly Hallows, and a pointed flower on the curve of his bicep with his children's names etched on the three petals. The fingers stopped and lingered over a small, black and silver dragon on the top of Harry's shoulder.

"For your escape from Gringotts?" Draco whispered uncertainly.

Harry's stomach flipped over. For the briefest of moments, he thought about lying, but he didn't want secrets between them. Not this time around. "That's what I tell people."

Draco was silent for a long moment, his voice rough as stone when he finally asked, "When?"

Harry took a deep breath. "A few months after you and Astoria got married."

"So long?"

"I—I'd moved on, but I hadn't really let go, not completely. Nobody knew about this hugely important thing that had happened between us, and it had all disappeared overnight, as if it had never happened at all. I needed an outlet." Things had been difficult for him and Ginny for the first few months after James had been born. News of Draco's marriage had hit Harry harder than it had any right to, and combined with a newborn son, and a recent promotion at work, Harry had been a bit of a mess. After a long, hard conversation with Ron and Hermione, he'd finally managed to pull himself together. He realised that he needed to well and truly put Draco behind him and start living the life he'd made for himself. That night he'd added the dragon to his collection, as a way to acknowledge his secret past, and move on with his future. 

"He's beautiful," Draco murmured, his eyes and fingertips caressing the stretching dragon.

"Yeah," Harry agreed, staring up at Draco's blushing face.

"I—err—should probably get going," Draco said after several more moments gazing at Harry. His tone was questioning and almost reluctant, and hope fluttered like a thousand Golden Snitches in Harry's stomach.

"You could stay. If you wanted."

Draco's body stilled, and Harry's heart stopped as he waited for Draco to make his decision. After what felt like ages, Draco settled back down next to Harry like he belonged there. Harry's breath left him in a rush, every last bit of tension leaching out of him as he curled into Draco's side. 

"Are you going to clean us off with that ridiculous wandless magic of yours?" Draco murmured sleepily.

Harry grinned a little sheepishly, realising that he was, in fact, quite sticky and uncomfortable. He concentrated and waved his hand, wriggling at the tingling rush of the charm sliding over his skin. Beneath him, Draco shivered with the display of power, and Harry felt a steady thrum of smug arousal vibrate through him. He wondered how long this feeling would last, this ability to become turned on at the drop of a hat by Draco's very existence. 

He closed his eyes and draped an arm over Draco, letting Draco's solid warmth lull him to sleep. 

Harry wasn't sure how long these feelings would last, but he hoped it would be a long, long time.

~~~~~

Harry woke up to the sounds of birds chirping and a not entirely unpleasant ache in his arse. He stretched out the kinks in his muscles, freezing when his hand brushed against something solid and warm. Draco.

It took all of Harry's strength not to make any sudden movements as every last second of the previous night flashed through his head in brilliant technicolour. The restaurant, the incendiary kiss in the alleyway, Draco coming home with him, and then coming _inside_ of him. Heat pooled in his belly, and he opened his eyes, taking in Draco's still sleeping form. He looked beautiful and vulnerable, his blond hair messy, the lines of his face gentled. Harry's heart expanded. Fuck, he wanted to keep this.

His stomach grumbled, and he was forced to drag his thoughts away from Draco and contemplate breakfast. Harry's body was definitely feeling the effects of their enthusiastic activities the night before, and a big fry-up would be most welcome. On the other hand, part of Harry felt hesitant to leave Draco alone. What if he left? What if he decided that last night was a mistake? 

No. If this was going to work, Harry needed to trust Draco. Harry hadn't been the only one present last night, he hadn't been the only one who had wanted it. Draco had stayed because he wanted to, and he was _still_ there. He could have left at any point last night, but he'd stayed when Harry had asked.

Doing his best not to jostle the bed, Harry got up. He threw on an old dressing gown, and with one last look at a slumbering Draco, headed downstairs to make breakfast.

Draco came down just as Harry finished with the sausages. 

"We seem to be repeating history," Draco murmured as Harry served up their food on mismatched plates. Harry knew he was thinking of the first time they'd had breakfast together, when Harry had drunkenly kissed Draco and then promptly freaked out. 

"With a different ending, I hope."

Draco smiled as he took a bite of eggs. "I like the sound of that."

"Yeah?"

"I wouldn't be here if I thought otherwise."

Harry settled in across from Draco, cautious happiness bubbling inside of him. "We should probably talk about things."

"Probably."

"I've been clear about what I want, right? I want to date you, for real this time."

"I'd like that, too. Of course, there are other things to consider. Do we tell our friends and family right away? Our children? You mentioned wanting to keep things out of the public eye for a while at dinner last night. How long do we keep things under wraps?"

"Well, James, Al, Scorpius, and Teddy all already know about our...past." Draco gave him a wide-eyed look. "They eavesdropped on part of our conversation in your office last autumn. Not the whole thing, thank God, but enough to realise that we have a past. The point is, I don't think they'll be surprised."

Draco let out a long sigh. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that they were listening in. Scorpius has always had a talent for hearing things he shouldn't. I'm glad it won't be such a shock to them, but maybe..." Draco bit his bottom lip in thought before continuing, "Maybe we should keep things quiet for a few months, to see how things go. Part of why it didn't work between us before was the pressure of coming out. Most of the world still thinks you're straight, and we both know the _Prophet_ is going to plaster the story of us dating all over the front page when it breaks. I'd like to give us a chance to be together before everybody else butts in."

"That sounds reasonable. Why don't we wait a couple of months until summer. If things are still going well, we can tell our kids and then start thinking about how to break the news publicly." 

"Agreed." Draco's smile sent shivers of delight dancing over Harry's skin. "In the meantime we've got several months to become...reacquainted. Any suggestions?"

Draco's robe gaped at the collar, revealing his naked chest and sharp collarbones. It made Harry want to touch. 

He grinned at Draco. Oh, Harry had ideas all right. He had plenty of them.


	10. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place after the James/Teddy oneshot, [Midnight](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5476355). You don't have to have read that fic for the chapter to make sense, but it's more fun if you have. :)

_Christmas_

As usual, Harry woke up bright and early. Well, in the dead of winter it wasn't so much bright, as just early; the sky outside the window was not yet even grey with the beginnings of dawn. He stretched and left a mumbling Draco in bed, throwing on a dressing gown and heading downstairs to get a start on Christmas breakfast. Harry felt a little sluggish and slow, the result of not enough sleep last night. He grimaced, trying not to think about why that was. 

Harry wasn't too far into the preparations before Draco came down the stairs, looking unfairly put together for having just woken up. He handed Draco a steaming cup of tea, and Draco smiled at him gratefully. Harry's stomach did a little flip at the naked pleasure in Draco's eyes. They'd been together for months, but Draco still managed to undo him with just a smile. Something in his face must have shown his reaction, because Draco's smile widened and he placed his cup of tea on the counter, abandoning it in favour of pressing close to Harry and kissing him hello. 

"Good morning," Draco murmured, when their lips finally parted. His body was still warm and solid, pressing Harry back against the counter. He felt so good that Harry didn't even mind the way the sharp edge of the countertop dug into his arse.

"It is now."

Draco chuckled and moved away, picking up his tea and sitting down at the kitchen table. "Don't get sappy on me, Potter. You know how it makes me want to ravish you, and we're going to have a horde of minions demanding to be fed soon."

"Soon?" Harry snorted. "We'll be lucky if Al, Scorpius, and Lily are up before noon. James and Teddy are the only early risers of the bunch and…" Harry coughed as he put on the bacon. "They might still be tired."

Draco laughed at that, a loud, merry sound that made the whole room feel inexplicably warm.

"What's so funny?" Teddy asked from the doorway. "Oh, is that coffee?"

Harry poured him a cup, passing it over without looking him in the eyes. Draco continued to cackle at the table.

"Seriously," James added, grabbing a mug and the cafetiere to pour himself a cup. "What's with Draco? Is he broken?"

Teddy sat at the table across from Draco, and James settled in next to him, their legs hooking together as they inhaled their coffee. They looked sleepy, rumpled, and far too cosy and satisfied. Harry felt his face heat, and turned away towards the food.

Behind him, Draco finally stopped laughing. "Oh, don't mind me, only a little sleep-deprived, that's all."

Harry froze, praying that Draco wasn't going to go and make things even more awkward than they already were.

"Did you not sleep well?" asked James.

"No, neither of us did, unfortunately." Draco's voice was all exaggerated regret. Harry couldn't help but turn to the side so he could see the table while he beat the eggs.

"Really? Why not? I thought you said you slept really well here."

"Usually, yes. But _usually_ we don't have guests."

"Oh, does us being here make it harder for you to sleep? We would've stayed at Teddy's flat, but Dad asked us to stay over."

"He did. Of course, he's probably regretting it now, aren't you, darling?" Draco looked over at Harry his eyes dancing.

"What, why?" James looked at him with sad, wounded eyes, and Harry sighed.

"I'm happy to have you here." He looked meaningfully at James, then Teddy. "But I know I taught you both how to cast a decent Silencing charm."

Teddy's face went pale, his hand freezing with his coffee mug halfway towards his mouth. James's eyes went wide. Draco burst into another round of laughter.

"Oh, fuck."

"You said you'd cast the spell!" Teddy hissed.

"I said that I _would_ cast the spell. And then I got distracted…" James bit his lip on a smile, clearly trying to look apologetic and failing spectacularly. 

Teddy folded his arms on top of the table and dropped his head on top of them miserably. 

"Oh, come on, Teddy, it's not like they didn't already know we were having sex. It's not that bad."

"You're not the one who had to listen to his son and his godson having sex," Harry grumbled under his breath. 

"Just kill me," Teddy moaned.

"Come now, Teddy. At least Harry and I know you're keeping James well-satisfied. Sexual compatibility is very important in a relationship."

"Draco!" Harry scolded, voice strangled, as Teddy buried his face farther into his arms and James looked far too pleased. Draco gave him a heated look, reminding Harry of their own sexual compatibility. Draco's fingers ran deliberately over the table, bringing to mind the previous week. They'd both been so keyed up after a long dinner at the Burrow that neither of them could wait once they finally got home. Harry had fucked Draco right there in the kitchen, Draco's hands clawing at the wooden dining table as Harry sunk into him over and over and over. 

He cleared his throat. "Why don't we change the subject? To anything else."

James, Lily, and Scorpius chose that moment to all come bursting into the room in a flurry of noise and colour.

"Is breakfast ready?"

"Can we open presents now?"

"Ooo, bacon."

Breakfast was a merry affair, full of laughter and chatter and appreciate groans. Harry looked around the table, James and Albus arguing loudly about Quidditch, Teddy regaling Scorpius and Lily with gruesome Auror stories, and Draco sitting across from Harry, looking at him with soft eyes.

Harry never could have guessed that his life would take this path. To have Draco and lose him and find him again after all those years. It felt like some kind of miracle, like fate. It had taken them years to get to this place, to finally become the men they needed to be before they could be together. Years of separation, of loving other people, of living and learning and growing. But they had finally made it.

Harry looked around the table at his family, heart fit to burst with love and pride and the sudden swell of thankfulness that life had led him here.

It had been worth the wait. 

_Fin_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope it was worth the wait for all of you lovely readers as well! Thank you so much for all of your lovely comments on this fic and the series overall! The main arc of the series is over, but I already have at least one more oneshot planned in the 'verse, and I'm sure I'll get the urge to play around with these characters more in the future! <3

**Author's Note:**

> [Kudos ♥] and [Comments] are fabulous! I'd love to hear what you think!
> 
> Come find me on [tumblr](http://gracerene09.tumblr.com/)!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Banners] All of the Time](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7802653) by [Knowmefirst](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Knowmefirst/pseuds/Knowmefirst)




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